


Uniformal Domestication

by Jemppu



Series: Months [22]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Art, Culmets - Freeform, Fanart, M/M, Tumblr, honey mushroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23822854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemppu/pseuds/Jemppu
Summary: Part of"Honey Mushroom"series of illustrated Culmets momentslisted here on tumblr, and of"Months"moments, taking place before the couple's ultimate Discovery mission.Hugh and Paul having a small moment after full work days.With illustration:"Earth Day Evening"
Relationships: Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets
Series: Months [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1082124
Kudos: 12





	Uniformal Domestication

**Author's Note:**

> The series gets released quite out of order, as inspiration dictates, so I urge you to check out the [series list on tumblr](https://tinyurl.com/honeyshroom) for a better picture of the whole.

## 

## Months: Uniformal Domestication 

The pants are too tight and lack proper pocket space. The jacket: movement restrictively snug with unbearably stiff collar, rides up constantly, has no pockets either, and the sleeves are really too slim to roll up comfortably - like he likes to do. The boots are bulky, sweaty and clunky to walk in - he prefers a slip-on shoe, with a sleeker sole. The undershirt he feels is unflatteringly formfitting and it’s impossible to pull on the tight sleeved jacket over it without the short shirt sleeves rolling up into one’s armpits, bulking up the shoulders already hefty with a cross section of seams, thicker fabric and the unnecessary, fancy ornamental ridges.  
  
It’s a disagreeable outfit, is what Paul is getting at.

Hugh smiles after Paul finishes yet another one of his irritated rants about the inconveniences of this uniform he now has to wear for his Starfleet duties.

  
“You can’t **that** completely hate it”, Hugh is half amused, half sympathetic for the man, “look on the bright side: at least it’s in your color”.  
  
It’s true: this is the shade of navy blue Hugh is actually rather used to seeing Paul wear - even if the uniform itself appears still quite foreign on the man.  
  
“I **hate** that it’s in my color”, Paul huffs and waves his hand dismissively.  
  
“What?” Hugh lets out a desperate laugh with a hint of resignation in his voice, his shoulders dropping in submission to Paul’s insistent suffering, “Why, Paul?” Is there nothing to please the grump?  
  
The man turns to Hugh midway through the stairs they are currently climbing up, prompting a worried, tense reflex on the doctor’s arms - occupied with carrying bags as they are - readying for the possibility that his honey might fall over not watching his steps.  
  
“It does not belong on me. I do not belong in it”, Paul goes on explaining unfazed, with a certain self-aware playful irk, pulling on the hem of his open uniform jacket to point it out, "How **dare** this be in my color!“  
  
There’s some genuine earnestness in the words behind the man’s jesting tone however.  
  
"Oh, honey!” Hugh’s laughter sounds sympathetically amused by Paul’s seemingly ever increasing problems with the outfit. As the men reach the top of the stairs, Hugh puts the bags he’s been carrying down on the porch and reaches to pat the man’s shoulder.  
  
Paul puts his bag down next to Hugh’s and pauses to take in this marvelous ocean view in all it’s glorious evening light. Earth sunset: it feels so calm and homely after years of the light show that was the Denevian twin stars setting. Glorious as it was, this feels much more relaxed and tranquil.  
  
 _“Down to Earth”_ , Paul smiles and turns to acknowledge the man next to him, with his hand on Paul’s shoulder.  
  
The couple have just arrived to Paul’s rented beach hut after a full day of Starfleet duties.  
  
For Paul it had been a day of setting up his Spore Drive engineering room aboard the Discovery, currently under construction on the lower orbit. Headbutting with planners and builders on what goes where - how he wants the space laid out. And most importantly figuring out an efficient method for delivering the spores from the new Stella garden, in the ship’s cargo vault, to the drive system.  
  
Hugh on the other hand had stayed on the ground: he had arranged a meeting between his new work mates and spent the day getting to know Discovery’s up and coming medic team, or at least those of whom are currently present already. To bond with his fellow crew and to share each other’s expertise - see where each individual’s specialty lay and how well their personalities would get along.  
  
Hugh finds his hand playing with the "cumbersome shoulder ridges" of Paul’s uniform jacket.  
  
“How about you keep the uniform on and we make some more good memories for it then?” Hugh suggests flirtatiously, peeking behind his sunglasses, and moves closer to his man.  
  
Paul’s response of a raised eyebrow gets reflected back from the doctor’s shades. “You sure that’s not against any regulation?” he smirks and turns to lean nonchalantly against the porch railing - he’s in no hurry to get inside and leave this blessed scene quite yet, despite starting to feel the evening chill through this blasted ‘appearance suit’, which protects against nothing. “Doesn’t it break some form of uniform code or something, to disrespect the damn getup with such 'unofficer-like’ conduct?”  
  
Like he would be a virgin to such behavior himself, his pestering mind reminds.  
  
“What? Disrespect?” Hugh smiles friskily, leaning next to Paul, “I have nothing but love and respect for it”.  
  
“No doubt. Perhaps a bit too much love though?” Paul remarks teasingly and reaches out to remove Hugh’s sunglasses, to get a better read on those gorgeous dark eyes.  
  
“It’s cute, that you’re concerned about that”, Hugh’s eyes smile, blinking, still raw to the brightness of the setting sun, “but trust me: a lot goes on in these uniforms among the ranks, that the Fleet wouldn’t necessarily endorse”.  
  
“And you too should know that already”, a nudge to Paul’s arm reminds the doctor hasn’t forgotten either.  
  
“Yes, well. Still: do I want to be a repeat offender?” Paul acknowledges the remark with a smirk, brushing off the reminder quickly before an uneasy blush has a chance to manifest.  
  
“Seems a worthy cause”, Hugh smiles back.  
  
“Besides, they’d be pressing charges for most of the Fleet, if they suddenly started to monitor such things”, the doctor laughs, “there’s actually a term for it too”.  
  
“Reaaally? You mean for 'extraorganizational activity in the uniforms’?”, Paul’s eyes widen with curiosity, though the man tries to keep it cool, “Well? Do tell.”.  
  
Hugh laughs at Paul’s sudden keenness on the subject. “ _"Polishing badges”_ “, he smiles.  
  
Paul lets out a short amused huff and turns his gaze across to the horizon, trying to recollect, if maybe he had already overheard the phrase used somewhere during his brief time among the personnel. If he had, he can’t recall it right now.  
  
"I won’t tell, if you won’t”, Hugh assures puckishly, walking his fingers across Paul’s shoulders, “who else is gonna know?” He leans in closer to give a kiss on the man’s jaw.  
  
“You’re soon going to be wearing this daily. Nothing **but** this”, Hugh leans back smiling, letting his fingers play with the stubbornly rolled up sleeve of Paul’s jacket, “You better start loving it, Commander”.  
  
The Fleet may have 'demoted’ the man to Lieutenant, but Hugh has gotten quite used to calling Paul his _“Commander”_ in private. Which could be unfortunate in the future; he should probably learn to address the man by his proper rank now, to avoid slipping the more intimate title out on duty circumstances.  
  
“I’m not sure, if I can ever _"love”_ it", Paul huffs with a dismissive tone.  
  
“I know I do”, Hugh puts his arm around his reluctant officer and pulls Paul in closer by his hip, “there are things I’d like to do to you, Commander. Would you let me persuade you?”  
  
“Sure”, Paul relents, and his face quickly adopts the familiar 'smooth smirk’, “I think you have already made a strong case for it, but I’m always up for further persuasion”.  
  
“Oh, when I’m done, you won’t be willing to take the 'suit’ off to go to bed”.  
  
“You sure that’s what you want to teach me?” Paul remarks while playing with the collar of the Starfleet Medical branded polo shirt Hugh is currently wearing, “sounds rather counter-intuitive for your intended purposes”.  
  
The Commander Lieutenant laughs as he feels Paul’s hand slide down to his hip, “my intentions are to get you Starfleet domesticated”.  
  
“Right”, Paul smiles, “you do that then”.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts on the work posted along with the illustration on [**tumblr**](https://jmalkki.tumblr.com/post/178599157149/earth-day-evening-paul-does-not-wear-starfleet).
> 
> _Likes, shares, comments and what have you, all appreciated on:_  
>  _[ **tumblr**](http://jmalkki.tumblr.com/) | [**twitter**](https://twitter.com/Jemppu) | [**instagram**](https://www.instagram.com/jeminamalkki/) | [**DeviantArt**](https://www.deviantart.com/jemppu)_


End file.
